Secret Of The Shift Key Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt

If there is a beginning
it is from the ending of
our vows.

In a flock of words I mumble
some sort of an answer
to the endless questions
you keep asking me.

There is one way or no way
and every other way is
false hope in an
uncurled midnight stairway.

Candles will not burn
for they
lack wicks and
so they are picked up
and fondled for
the memories they
seem to
represent.

I always have the same dream
when I am
sleeping on the couch.

In it my jumping eyes
flow to your hips.
They take in your breasts
bubbling in your bra.

I fantasize about making love
to
you on the floor.

Rough and ready, no
sweet talk or music
or foreplay.

Just drop you down and
force me in.

My pleasure is
all the justification
I'll need to supply.

I graze the back of your neck
with a knife.